Several people stopped me last week after they read a newspaper obituary on retired Dean of Students Bill Malevich and saw my quote that Malevich and the late Monsignor James Lavin were perhaps the two most-beloved figures of the past half century at St. Thomas.

“Really?” they asked. “How so?”

They didn’t doubt my observation but simply were curious why I felt that way. They were relative newcomers to St. Thomas and they wanted to know more about the impact these two men had on the life of the university. I tried to explain that in a few words but I feared I wasn’t doing justice to their legacies, so I want to offer my thoughts today.

Lavin participated in the 2000 Ireland Hall teeter-totter marathon.

Both men were natives of Minnesota’s Iron Range, Lavin hailing from Aurora and Malevich from nearby Eveleth. Both held bachelor’s and master’s degrees from St. Thomas. Both spent most of their careers here, Lavin as a theology professor, counselor and special assistant in the alumni office from 1946 to 2002 and Malevich as a counselor and dean of students from 1965 to 1993.

But as important as longevity can be, because they came to know many generations of students, it was their interaction with those students that made Lavin and Malevich special. They always put the welfare of students first. They had an innate, almost magical ability to ascertain when a student was in trouble, homesick, broke, struggling with classes or at odds with roommates, and they knew the right thing to say or do to turn that student’s life around.

They did it in very different ways. Lavin lived in Ireland Hall for 60 years – four as a student and 56 as a floor priest – and he became legendary for his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a door that always was open. Malevich was more proactive, camping out in The Grill across from his Murray-Herrick Campus Center office, setting up a “Dean, Dean the Answer Machine” booth and writing an “Ask the Dean” column for a decade.

These were different approaches, indeed, and not surprising when you consider that Lavin was more of an introvert and Malevich was an extrovert. But they were equally effective because they were grounded in a simple desire to help others. They had, in today’s parlance, students’ backs.

William Malevich

The incredibly devout Lavin saw service to students as a natural part of his priestly ministry, and they respected him both because of his Roman collar and his quiet, avuncular nature. After Lavin died in 2012, Tim Fischer ’84, now an athletics and reunions gift officer at St. Thomas, told a story about his first encounter with the man widely known as Scooter.

Fischer lived in Ireland Hall and returned to campus early one morning after having been over-served at a local bar. He took pool balls from the basement to the second-floor hallway and set them up on the terrazzo floor. “Laying down, I felt a tap at my ribs,” Fischer said. “I looked around and it was Father Lavin. ‘What in the world do you think you’re doing?’ he asked me. ‘Playing pool,’ I said. ‘Pick ’em up and follow me,’ he said. I followed him upstairs and he quietly proceeded to fix me a sandwich, sat me down and explained how things worked at St. Thomas. From that time on, he was a mentor and friend.”

Malevich’s efforts to reach out to students stemmed from his own experience as a freshman. “Bill was scared to death when he got here,” Father John Malone said after Malevich’s death. “He wasn’t going to let that happen to students when he was dean.” He became what Al Sickbert, who worked for him and then succeeded him, called “an old-fashioned dean – someone whose whole focus was to be a dean who talked to students.”

“He wasn’t that interested in policies and going to meetings,” said Sickbert, now dean of students at Hamline. “He created with every student who ever got in trouble a very personal relationship. He invited students in and got to know them as real people – not just as students. It was all about personal touch.”

Personal touch. Fischer experienced it that night in Ireland Hall, just as thousands of other students came to witness it over nearly six decades.

Personal touch. Malone saw in Malevich “a substitute grandpa” who went out of his way to help others. “He was one of those people lucky enough to find the job that suited him,” alumnus Bill Collins ’87 said, “and then spent his lifetime doing it well.”

We should all be so lucky. More importantly, we should all be grateful. This community filled the Chapel of St. Thomas Aquinas three years ago to pay their last respects to Monsignor Lavin. I expect a similar crowd will be on hand at 10:30 a.m. this Saturday (Aug. 1) for Dean Malevich’s funeral in the chapel. See you there.

“With an education comes some form of power. And that power can be used to do a lot of good.” – Talee Vang

I’m not going to lie; the interview I did with the incredible St. Thomas human you’re about to meet had my heart soaring and my mind spinning – so much so I received my first speeding ticket in 30 years while driving home after our chat at SpyHouse coffee in North Minneapolis. Yep, the adrenaline was flowing and my foot was obviously pressing out the extra energy.

It was well worth it, because Talee Vang is one pretty fascinating young woman: a doctoral student in counseling psychology, the mother of three young children, born in a Thai refugee camp, granddaughter of one of General Vang Pao’s closest confidants, a woman unafraid to speak up about what’s wrong with the world, and a poet (in all of her “free” time). The rest of her story … well … is best told in her own delightful words.

Tell us all about you!

There’s so much to tell! So my name is Talee Vang and I’m Hmong. I was born in Thailand in a refugee camp and my family and I moved here to Minnesota when I was 2. … I have three kids: five, four and 15 months. My partner is Hmong as well; he was born in Thailand in a different refugee camp, and lived in Michigan for quite a while. I’ve been married for – I don’t know – since 2008, and I’m really bad at math! So seven years.

It has gotten easier. I will say, at the beginning it was difficult. When I went into the master’s program my daughter, Evera, was six months. One of the biggest reasons why I decided to start: my partner is very smart, upper-management level, M.B.A., and I thought: “I need to do this because I need my daughter to know that she can do this, too.” It’s larger than me, and that’s what helps me.

It sounds like you and your husband really work together and have a beautiful relationship.

Yeah, it takes a lot of work – I feel like nobody talks about that! … I’m a feminist, and one of the things that I’ve just struggled with is how you are a feminist in a patriarchal society. And I mean the expectations of a Hmong daughter-in-law – it’s so hard.

Talk about your dad’s role in raising you as a strong, highly educated Hmong woman?

I remember going to my dad and saying, “I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know what to do.” I didn’t like navigating through all these people telling me to know my place. But my dad, in public, in the community, helps lead this navigation. He speaks to me with respect and as an equal, and when others see that, he really sets the stage. … These are the parts of the Hmong culture that don’t get talked about; you don’t hear about all the ways the community works for you and pulls you up. These are things that I want to talk about!

What’s your dream job?

Once I’m done with the doctorate program, I’ll be licensed at that level. … I want to practice, but not full time. I want to teach, but not full time. I love research because there’s not enough research in the places I think there should be. … Other people can’t know about my history, my people’s history, these societies, if nobody’s writing about it. And there’s a difference between coming from an environment and writing and doing research on that environment, as opposed to someone coming from the outside and doing research on it.

So true! It’s really cool you’re committed to giving voice to those who don’t have one or have been silenced.

I’m pretty vocal – I have a lot of strong opinions! And you know, as I’m growing and learning, I’m learning to question a lot more. I know that there is a line between pushing too much. One of the things that I’ve been kind of thinking about is when you talk about the majority and you talk about stats, you talk about it in terms of the mean. I always wonder, “Who are the outliers? Who are the minority?” You know – I’m a woman, I’m Hmong, I’m a minority on so many levels and to me I want to be able to study things and do things and really bring a voice to that.

Say a brag about yourself!

Gosh, let me see. Okay, I write really good poems about whatever is really pressing for me. I’ve seen the influence my poems have had on people who I’ve never met before, and that is something I’m really proud of.

Your biggest fear?

I’m afraid of not leaving a legacy. Are you familiar with General Vang Pao? My grandfather grew up with him and basically mentored him. When the U.S. came over and recruited the Hmong people to help fight along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, when General Vang Pao decided to help the U.S. people and basically speak on behalf of the Hmong people, he consulted my grandfather.

Your grandfather sounds like a pretty incredible role model.

He died in 2006. I met him once – I was so lucky. But I barely knew him. And I never really even knew this history until I was older because we don’t learn this history in school. So this is a part of who I am and I want to have a life that is meaningful – that touches more than just me.

Describe your dream day.

At an all-inclusive spa. I want a massage, I want a hot tub. It’s been so crazy lately – I need a break!

What’s your dissertation going to be about?

One of my mentors was like, “You don’t need to change the world,” and I was like, “I need to change the world!” But it’s going to be on the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory Restructured Form, and looking at Hmong norms to see if there is test bias or not. It’s really fun!

What drives you crazy about humans?

People’s unwillingness to look at their own flaws.

Favorite teacher ever?

Dr. Kerry Frank. He retired from St. Thomas last year. He taught me to believe in myself, to believe in my experience.

There are so many! Best gift. I would say honestly, the gift of higher education.

* * *

So, can you now see why I might have been going a little (just a mere 17 mph) over the speed limit on Broadway Avenue in Minneapolis? What you read above is just the tip of the Talee Vang iceberg of awesomeness. I propose she write an autobiography some day – and I call dibs on first in line for a copy.

As always, keep sending your tips on cool humans inhabiting our cool campus to cjbruess@stthomas.edu. We’ll be back with more HOST features in the fall.

So many cool humans at our fabulous university, and so little time to meet you all! A few weeks ago, I had a chance to more fully meet a student from one of my classes last semester – someone about whom, when I learned he was the president of the St. Thomas board game club, I jotted the quick mental note: “Contact him spring semester; I must know more!”

Did you know we have a rather large and thriving Table Top Game Club at UST? Neither did I. The 125-member-strong group meets every Wednesday night in MHC to, just as it sounds, sit face to face and play games. No, not computer nor the many open-source, online games; only games that can be spread out on a tabletop (hence the name) are allowed.

Vito Sauro

When I heard about Vito Sauro’s presidency of the board game club, admittedly I pictured Mouse Trap and Monopoly. Vito assured me all board games are worthy – but the games played in the club tend to be the latest and greatest, and often the most complicated. And there’s no shortage to choose from each week: The club owns approximately 70 games, frequently recycling lesser-played games with donations to local schools and churches. They never shy away from complexity: Most demand studying multiple pages of rules (30-plus pages printed in teeny-tiny fonts!), and some of the play stretches over weeks.

Of course, there’s much more to Vito than his intriguing fascination with building his personal collection of 80-plus board games and leading the thriving club. Per usual, below is a peek into the life and mind of senior Vito Sauro – the oldest of four brothers, member of a 20-person graduating class at a “small Christian high school,” a first-generation college student who chose St. Thomas because “the campus is amazing and gorgeous!” and a guy who still uses a floppy disk.

What brought you to St. Thomas? I looked at the big five in the area and I just liked this one. It had a good feel!

Anything you can’t live without: I can’t live without my close faith.

If you could just hop on a plane right now, where would you go? Venice. I want to go to Venice so bad. Seeing pictures – it looks beautiful. And obviously my family is from Italy.

The best teacher you’ve ever had? My dad definitely taught me how to be a good father, and I appreciate that more than I can say.

Tell us more about your family of six: I am the oldest of four brothers. I always wanted a sister a little bit, but it just never happened. There’s me, Tony, Rudy and Nico. It’s great! We’re all pretty close. Nico and I, actually over board games, have a special bond. He’s 15. Lately, let’s see, we’ve played a lot of Kingsburg.

Did you grow up playing board games? Growing up I played a lot of Monopoly and Scrabble – games that everybody’s heard of and are on every family game shelf. I enjoyed it a lot, but a lot of it is just rolling the dice and moving, and you don’t make a lot of decisions.

How did you become fascinated with the more complex world of board gaming? So, somebody in my later years at high school introduced me to Settlers of Catan. It is a very good segue … from those lightweight games that everyone has into some of the more interesting, intriguing, obscure games. When I got to campus my freshman year, a friend invited me to come to Table Top Gaming Club, and I did, and they had a ton of games.

Any life lessons learned by playing board games? Hard work and staying the course. Sticking it out when it looks bleak. Things can turn around for you! It’s a little bit of luck and a lot of skill, just like life!

If we came to a Wednesday club meeting, what kind of games might we see? Fantasy Flight Games is a company that’s based in Minnesota and some of its games are super, super heavy, like 34-page instructions. Then there’s Love Letter, which is super tiny. It comes in a little pouch and there are only eight cards in the game, 15 cards total. Basically, you’re a suitor to the princess and there are little red cubes, and whoever gets three cubes first wins!

Does the competition ever get heated? And be honest, are there cheaters?! First of all, cheaters never win. It doesn’t get very heated, and I love that about board games. It’s a way to get competitive in a social environment that doesn’t require hostility.

What’s your plan after graduation – your dream? I’ve given that a lot of thought lately! I think I want to work with high school students. I’d like to help students fill out FAFSA forms, college applications, that kind of thing. I’m a first-generation college student and that was a huge thing. I had to work through a lot of that myself, and there weren’t a whole lot of tools for me, and it worked! I’m here! But if I could help someone else who wasn’t sure about that … I mean, there are plenty of people who are still going to be first-generation college students.

On the best advice you’ve ever received? Two things come to mind: The first is from my dad, which is, “Don’t fill up on bread.” But the other is from the philosopher Heraclitus: “No man steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.” You’re always changing as a person and as a part of the groups that you are in. Sometimes it takes time to realize that; slowing down and realizing, trying to reflect on who you are or who you were, that’s a good thing.

What’s something that really bugs you about other humans? People who cut in traffic. I’m a commuter so I drive a ton – and people are different when they get into cars!

Anything that you fear? Being alone. I can do public speaking. I don’t like spiders, but I can do spiders. But being alone. Yeah.

Have anything in your backpack right now that might tell us about Vito the human? I’ll show you this one … a floppy disc that I just carry with me because it has a living journal on it. How do you make it so that nobody will be able to read your journal? You put it on something that nobody knows how to use! I just write about daily life.

If you were to write a book, what would the title be? I had to write an autobiography for my senior year of high school and I called it, “Stories from the Second Mile.” It’s a reference to a verse in the Bible where Jesus says, if someone asks you to walk with them one mile, walk with them two. I like that title a lot.

Keep sending me your tips on people for future features in Humans of St. Thomas: cjbruess@stthomas.edu. Although the list is getting long, there’s always room for more. Stay tuned because in the coming weeks, you’re going to meet … ah, I’ll never disclose my next victim, although I will give you two hints: graduate student, Minneapolis campus. See you all soon!

If you read the recent Humans of St. Thomas post in The Scroll, you aren’t at all surprised by today’s profile: the musical and multilayered UST inhabitant Nyasia!

She is “partner in crime” with NJ (Nick Jordan), whom thousands of you reportedly loved reading about (and hearing from, via “Old School”). After learning more about Nyasia, we are just sayin’: She gives Nick a run for his musical, soulful money – and she owns a similarly endearing sense of humor, humility and connectedness to family.

Without further adieu, it’s our pleasure to introduce Nyasia Arradondo: St. Thomas junior, English major, known as “princess” to her parents, Netflix fan, First Avenue performer and pretty darn impressive rising star (who will, we predict, realize her dream of one day being interviewed by the one and only Jimmy Fallon!).

Nyasia (Photo by Elena Neuzil ’17)

Tell us about you. Where’d you grow up, school, family … everything: I was born and raised in Minneapolis, where I still live. For a majority of my life, my goal was to leave – but Minneapolis is my home and I love it. I went to Breck School from fifth grade to my senior year of high school. My mom is Hmong and my dad is black, Mexican and Spanish, so I grew up having a strong connection to my culture and knowing the importance of my heritage. I have one brother, Medaria, who is only a year and 10 days older than me so we’re very close. He also sings but he is mostly known for his rapping.

Do you have any nicknames? My parents still call me “princess,” which I used to find extremely embarrassing but I’ve grown to love again. Some people call me Asia but even with a difficult name like mine, most people call me Nyasia.

What about your music? Did you always know you’d pursue it? I didn’t. I’ve had a lot of different dreams – my first big dream was to dance, which I studied for 11 years before I started focusing on music. I was really inspired by Sade, Whitney Houston, Alicia Keys, Selena and Corinne Bailey Rae, and seeing those artists drove me to practice this craft. I started by making YouTube videos, just to get some pointers. One of my friends saw my videos and showed them to a local rapper. Shortly after I became a singer in a local rap group. After that, there was a whirlwind of bands and me as a solo act.

Wow, you’ve done a lot in your first two decades! I try not to see these different projects, or parts of my life, as failures but as amazing opportunities. I’ve been able to perform at Project Earth, at the 7th Street opening up for Toki Wright and at the First Ave Mainroom opening up for the rapper Sammy Adams. It’s been a journey with a lot of ups and downs and disappointments, but it’s been incredible to hone my craft and get my name out there!

Why St. Thomas? I chose St. Thomas after attending the ThreeSixty Journalism camp here in high school. I fell in love with the beautiful campus. My favorite place on campus is Scooter’s and all my friends know it. They don’t even text me. They just look for me in Scooter’s.

Best moments you’ve had at UST so far? My best moment was meeting all my friends. Also, meeting one of my favorite professors, Dr. (Susan) Myers (theology). I look up to her so much. I also love Christmastime at UST. I love the decorations and the ginormous tree in the ASC.

What’s something you can’t live without? I can’t live without Hulu and Netflix.

What’s something you can live without? I can live without unrealistic societal standards.

What type of music do you make? What do you love about it? My music is soulful, trance-like and timeless. Good music is good music, whether it’s new or old, and I want my music to be first-rate in a timeless way. What I love most about my music is that it’s honest.

Say more. A lot of times people and artists are scared to say what’s on their mind because it may paint them in a negative light, but I’m not scared to say how I feel in my music, even if you look at me differently. All emotions are valid. Music is my therapy. It’s my way of turning an ugly situation into something beautiful.

What never fails to make you smile? My grandma always makes me smile. She has a great sense of humor. She doesn’t speak English very well and I don’t know very much Hmong, but we just laugh and laugh. She can crack jokes for days. If there was a Comedy Central Roast of Nyasia, she would kill it.

What’s your dream? My dream isn’t to win a Grammy or to perform with Missy Elliot at a Super Bowl half-time show, although those things would be awesome! For the longest time it has been to be interviewed by Jimmy Fallon. That would be “making it” in my opinion. I absolutely love him; I’m probably his biggest fan. It would be a dream come true for him to ask me silly questions or to play Catchphrase. Plus, he just seems like the nicest guy.

Best advice you’ve ever received? This past year, I went through something very traumatic and I was told to take care of myself before anything else.

If you had $100 and one hour to spend it, where would you go and what would you buy? I’d walk into Petco and buy a tortoise. I love turtles and tortoises and I’ve just been focused on paying off my credit card bill so I haven’t really been able to get my tortoise.

Tell us about your friendship and collaboration with Nick Jordan? Nick was my first friend at St. Thomas and we just clicked over music. I remember talking about Justin Timberlake’s “Justified” album and realizing we were really similar. It felt like I’d known him for years, growing up together, listening to the same exact music. Nick is my partner in crime. He’s the most talented, compassionate, funny and humble person I’ve ever met. He’s always been there for me. He always looks out for me. In my toughest moments, he’s been the voice of reason and my shining light. He saved my life and I’m forever grateful to have him as a friend.

What’s your favorite song to perform? Probably my song “In the Morning,” which is one of my original songs (and just hit YouTube last weekend). It fits in any atmosphere and I love the imagery in that song.

Do you have any guilty pleasures? My guilty pleasure is that I absolutely love to cook so I can take pictures of my delicious meals to post on Instagram.

Three words that describe Nyasia? Audio Canvas Painter.

As always, keep sending your tips to cjbruess@stthomas.edu about other UST inhabitants to feature in future Humans of St. Thomas posts.

Many of you (thank you!) are submitting magnificent tips about countless cool humans for features in the Humans of St. Thomas (HOST) series. Too fun! While I hope to meet all of them eventually, last week I felt an inexplicable pull to simply sit in the beautiful, sun-drenched atrium of Anderson Student Center. I didn’t know how to go about finding a random HOST victim without seeming weird and creepy; I wanted to just strike up conversation with someone – anyone – and spontaneously persuade him or her to reveal his/her humanness to me (“please speak right into my mini old-school voice recorder, circa 1995? Thank you very much.”).

NJ (Photo by Elena Neuzil ’17)

So, there I sit on the T’s side of the atrium, feeling awkward and conspicuous when out of nowhere, just moments before I would tell my extroverted self this might be a really bad idea, along comes “NJ.” Another student with whom I am chatting greets him and he reciprocates with a gracious, heartwarming smile, but he keeps pace toward the fine aroma of the nearby stir-fry station. To the student I know, I mumble-blurt: “Help me get that guy back here!” “Nick … Hi! Carol here. Do you have a minute?” as I awkwardly make visible my vintage voice recorder.

I have no idea why Nick walked by at that perfect moment. But in the next 28 minutes, I was intensely grateful for not abandoning the plan to find a random human because I met this crazy-cool inhabitant of our UST community. He is a junior music business and business administration double major, a performer, a freakishly mature and soulful young man, an only child raised by his single mom, a guy who spreads kindness and love with intention, and a budding songwriter/musician whose music buddies call him NJ.

Where are you from? Give us a little family background on NJ! I grew up west metro in a small town called Delano. With just me and my mom – just single parent swag. She’s really cool.

Did you always know you’d be a musician? Since I was little I always wanted to perform or do music, but I just probably didn’t want to admit it to myself. In high school I was like, “Oh Mom, I think this is what I want to do.” And she was like, “Duh!” … So when I was 18 I got back into songwriting and piano. I wanted to learn how to do the whole thing. And I found out, you know, nobody’s going to do this for you. You just do it yourself – and connect with the people who will help you shine.

Was St. Thomas your first choice? Yeah! For some strange reason it just bloomed out of nowhere and felt like this might be the place. So, I’m here, kind of uncovering the purpose. You get little glimmers of, “Oh, it makes sense why I’m here.”

What about best moments in your four years at UST? Within the first three days I met one of my really good friends. Her name is Nyasia, who is also a great musician. She was the first person I kind of grew and connected with. I thought she was so cool; we just met at this strange crossroads of our lives. So us colliding right at the start of our journeys at St. Thomas – I feel like was something really special and necessary.

Nyasia sounds pretty darn awesome. Nyasia is very important to me. … When you grow up with mixed descent, there is a societal pressure to pick and choose which parts of your culture to be put on display – as if I had to choose. All parts of my being are worthy of celebration. Still, I had always kind of felt like a weird, brown alien growing up – very displaced. (After meeting Nyasia) I now realized that I wasn’t the only one who got separated when our spaceship crashed on Earth. We now had each other to make up for lost time – to celebrate creativity, blackness and purpose.

Sounds like Nyasia has been an incredible life-changer for you – someone who helped you embrace your full, beautiful self? I’m more in love with her than I have been with anything in my life, because not only is she my best friend and my soul mate, but she and I share a dream together. Without Nyasia, there would be no Nick Jordan. (So, Scroll readers, Nyasia sounded so awesome that I quickly decided she must be our next HOST feature. Check back soon for more on her!)

Anything you cannot live without? Black socks.

What about something you can live without? Snapchat. I deleted it. That was my New Year’s thing.

What’s your dream? I have so many friends who are musicians, so when I think about my dream now I don’t dream it alone! I just love sharing stories and learning to get better and traveling together. Nyasia and I have this thing now – as long as we take a little step and get a little better, that’s what we’re working on. We call each other and just talk about our little steps getting better and better.

Tell me more about your instruments and what you love about your music. I sing and write songs. I write them all on piano. I love seventh chords and stuff. Seventh chords turn me on – they’re really sexy to me.

Three words that describe you? Lover. Learner. Professional Pokemon trainer – because I’m really good at Pokemon. Secret talent. I’m just really good. I’ll play anybody!

What you are working on right now? I’m almost done recording (after two years) what I consider to be my debut EP. I’ve put out stuff before, but it’s nothing compared to this. I’m so happy and proud of it, and it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’ll just feel good – whatever happens. (EP denotes “extended play” – a term for a recording containing more music than a single, but usually too short to be called a full studio album or LP.)

Tell us more about this EP! “NJ” (the title) is going to be soulful. It’s eclectic in the sense that you have some tracks that have an older feel, and some that feel like they could be more like 2002.

Say more. Like the first single, which is called “Old School.” You’ve got your bass grooves. You’ve got live percussion. You’ve got Pharrell Williams influence (and) Neptune synth-strings. From start to finish, I just thought, this is my voice! I hope it’s catchy and I hope everyone thinks when they’re listening, “Yes, he wrote this,” because I did. (See the link at the end of this post for the debut of “Old School.” Nick, please remember us when you’re on The Voice!)

Could you tell us the target release for “NJ”? I’m hoping the EP is all done by the summer. At this point it has to be! It’s got to be!

Do you have fears? I’m afraid of fear – of fear that paralyzes you and not being able to move past that.

What about things that bug you about other humans? I don’t like ego. I know that’s kind of broad. Ego is like, “Only me, only me.” Especially with music – you can see right through that.

You mentioned first loving Nyasia for her radical ego-lessness! I think we spent our first day together sitting under a tree and discussing the liner notes of Justin Timberlake’s “Justified.” When it came to music making, she virtually had no ego and was so willing to teach me everything she knew. In her company, I felt understood.

The best advice you ever have received? Self-love is where everything starts. If you learn to love yourself you literally don’t have room for hate.

Your answer to: “If you had $100 and one hour to spend it, where would you go and what would you buy?” My friend who is in grad school is really stressed out, and I asked him if he was eating right. He said he didn’t really have time or money to buy good groceries right now. So I would just send him a check with a little list of ingredients and recipes.

What never fails to make you smile? Good smells! I thought for a bit I might want to get licensed in aromatherapy. My room smells like a paradise. I have a secret fragrance that I use that is totally top secret, but it smells like oceans and vanilla.

And if you could go anywhere in the world right now? Hawaii. I would ask for the best island.

What’s the first thing you’d pack? A swimsuit. Because you don’t need black socks there.

You’re hearing it here first: “Old School,” the debut single off Nick Jordan’s upcoming EP, “NJ,” coming later this year.

As always, I sure love hearing your tips about Humans of St. Thomas to feature in the future (cjbruess@stthomas.edu). And, fair warning, watch out Minneapolis campus: I’ve been hanging out downtown the last few weeks and chatting with many cool inhabitants in your hip ZIP code – but I’d sure would enjoy your thoughts about who I shouldn’t miss.

I recently returned from a VISION trip to the middle of the southern California desert. With a group of 11 other St. Thomas students, I traveled to a place of pure magic called Quail Springs, a permaculture farm snuggled into what seemed like an endless national forest.

Without going into a big ol’ spiel about what VISION is and how important it has been to my personhood, life, goals and time at St. Thomas, I will tell you this: VISION is a service-immersion program that offers international and domestic J-Term and spring break trips led by students to cultivate community, social justice, spirituality, cultural exchange, simplicity and service.

Meredith Heneghan ’16 sits next to the bench that she helped to build with the cob she mixed.

Our time at Quail Springs was inspiring in all six of those categories, one of which stands out as I consider the trip as a whole: cultural exchange.

Many people, especially carefree and gutsy college students with an overdose of wanderlust, might think that traveling within the United States is unattractive, unexciting or lacking in “real” cultural diversity. However, Quail Springs confirmed for me the importance of domestic travel after nearly 21 years of family road trips, solo plane rides, sister adventures and saying “yes” to exploring this country.

When our group arrived at Quail Springs, we were not put to work right away. Even though we were ready and wired to do some butt-kickin’ farm labor, animal caretaking and natural building, we were tasked with a different type of work: arriving.

It is clear that community members at Quail Springs understand their landscape and lifestyle is unique and that, yes, we might be experiencing culture shock (especially in contrast to the Minnesota tundra and whirlwind student life we left behind). The respect, admiration and wonder with which they consider their surroundings rubbed off on us instantly; every moment introduced a new sight, smell, sound, feeling or emotion. Paying full attention to those moments was, in a word, overwhelming. (We had left all technological distractions in Minnesota, so there were no SnapChats, Instagrams or quick peeks at Facebook.) Sure, we had arrived physically, but mentally? Emotionally? Soulfully? No way. That was a much longer process.

Each night at Quail Springs before anyone eats dinner, there is a Gratitude Circle. It is a simple and beautiful practice: Each person says something he or she is grateful for that day. During our first Gratitude Circle, I remember saying I was grateful for the feeling of being somewhere that felt like coming home to a place I’d never been. “Home” is a strong feeling, and I meant it. But arriving at that home took all 10 days of our trip.

Meredith Heneghan ’16, left, and Alyssa Adkins ’15 mix cob, the material used to construct buildings and other structures at Quail Springs. Cob is a mixture of sand, clay, hay and water.

Slowly but surely, the arriving built up. I saw participants learning to cook, collecting eggs, milking goats, pulling weeds, chit-chatting, wandering the land, refilling the soap for the bathroom, journaling in the sun, learning, singing and laughing. The feeling of being new and visible was waning, and the feeling of being comfortable and useful was budding. Our cultures were combining.

The language and sentiment of arriving dwindled after a couple days, and the focus turned more to the intellectual and physical ins and outs of permaculture farming, natural building, sustainable living and the watershed that allows Quail Springs to exist. It was up to us, then, to be present to each other, the land and our hosts as we got busier. I’m not sure we ever were finished being overwhelmed, but at the time of our departure we had arrived enough to feel like we were being torn away too early, that our roots had settled into the ground at Quail Springs and that we would have to practice arriving once again – this time at home in Minnesota.

As we returned – picked up our phones, climbed into our beds and began to share our stories with others who wanted to hear about our adventure – it became apparent that it was going to be hard work to arrive back home.

I shook my head last month when I read a headline on a Minneapolis Star Tribune sports column that fans looking for a winning Minnesota team were in a tough spot because of the losing seasons of several teams in professional sports or at the University of Minnesota.

“They want winners?” I groused to myself. “They just need to stop by Schoenecker Arena.”

Now that the spring semester is underway after the two-week holiday break and January Term, I will say the same thing to St. Thomas students, faculty and staff: Spend some time in Schoenecker Arena watching the hottest Division III basketball teams in town – and in the country, for that matter.

Their records are astounding and, for this point in a season, they represent the best combined start in St. Thomas history. The Tommie women, ranked No. 3 in NCAA Division III, are 19-0. The men’s team, ranked No. 2 in the country, is 17-1. That adds up to 36-1, for a winning percentage of .973.

That one loss? Coach John Tauer’s men’s team lost 68-65 at Gustavus on Dec. 3. I saw that game, and it’s fair to say we did not play well. But we since have rattled off 13 straight wins, including a 64-52 win over Gustavus last week, so all is well.

St. Thomas has had strong basketball teams since 1977-78, the first season the women played, and both teams have made deep runs into the NCAA playoffs on several occasions. It’s certainly too early to predict how this season’s squads will do in the playoffs, but if they stay healthy and continue to play this soundly, we will be watching basketball well into March.

Athletic director Steve Fritz played and coached St. Thomas basketball for 44 seasons, closing his career with a national championship in 2011. He now watches from a corner in Schoenecker Arena, and he is impressed with what he sees.

“Both teams play very good defense more than anything,” he said, “and you always put yourself in a good position because of that. They shoot well, they have few turnovers and they have great players coming off the bench. That balance is so important. Good coaching, too!”

Everyone expected Ruth Sinn’s Tommies to have a banner season. She returned a veteran team, including three of the MIAC’s top players in seniors Maggie Weiers, Jenna Dockter and Anna Smith, and they dominate play. They are big, fast and aggressive. Their closest game has been nine points (vs. UW-Stevens Point), and their average margin of victory is 24 points. They rank No. 2 in Division III both in field goal shooting (47 percent) and No. 2 in scoring defense (45.7 points).

Tauer had a few question marks going into his fourth year, coming off a 22-6 season that ended with three losses in the last four games. The Tommies played unevenly in their first few games, including the disappointing loss at Gustavus, but have improved markedly and are a resilient bunch focused on winning the program’s 10th consecutive MIAC regular-season title. They lead Division III in three-point field goal percentage (44.4) and have six players averaging double figures in points.

But enough with the statistics. Another compelling reason to go to games is the atmosphere. Schoenecker Arena was jammed a week ago Saturday when we beat St. John’s, and it sure was fun to see the fans storm the floor after the final buzzer. It wiped out, if momentarily, that recurring nightmare I have of all that red filling our football field after the Johnnies defeated us last fall.

There’s no reason we can’t fill Schoenecker again as we head into the regular-season stretch and the MIAC and NCAA playoffs, always hoping that either the men or women will return to the Final Four. Or maybe both? That would be another first.

Don’t like basketball? Maybe you need to check out hockey. The men’s team, ranked No. 14 in Division III, is 9-1-1 since Thanksgiving.

The first installment of our very own “Humans of St. Thomas” was received (hurrah!) with great enthusiasm. And so, as promised, here goes another portrait of a very cool human in our midst.

Meet Steven Winkel, a St. Thomas inhabitant who, despite a busy finals week that made his work ever more challenging, graciously granted me a peek into his hobbies, life, loves, fears and passions – as well as a few of the super gross (some not printable in The Scroll) realities that are just part of the job he loves.

When you are on the first floor of O’Shaughnessy-Frey Library or O’Shaughnessy Educational Center, you benefit from Steve’s high-sheen polish and perfectly positive demeanor. In just 25 minutes with Steve, an eight-year employee, I discovered there’s so much more to him – not surprisingly – than his fabulously sparkling floors and superbly disinfected bathrooms. The jolly janitor, when not making OEC and OSF inhabitants’ days cleaner and neater, is a dutiful and dedicated dad of three teens, an avid video gamer, extremely afraid of spiders, a champion of Minnesota winters, recently married, a cat lover, and sustains a burning passion for Civil War non-fiction and reenactments. With his contagious and hearty laughter, he shared more on all of the above:

Steve Winkel

About his love of reading (maybe it’s why he ended up working in a library?) For sure, he admits, “I’m a big reader.” But it’s not why he enjoys vacuuming amongst the books. “I just was trying to stay on days. It works out so much better being a father, working during the day.”

On being a dad of a 17-, 15- and 13-year-old: “I have three kids. I have two children from a past marriage, and another child I have custody of. My kids are really, really good, to be honest. … Once I got a divorce, my ex-wife moved down to Hastings, and I couldn’t have that. So I moved with them. And I was like no. I did not have children to pay child support. I had children to become a father. … For better or for worse, it doesn’t matter. They’re with me.” He explained that moving into an apartment near his ex was, without a doubt, the right thing for a dedicated dad to do.

Was there anything special on their Christmas wish lists? “One [wanted] her iPod fixed, because it has cracks; the spider thing in front. My son wanted a game – Grand Theft Auto 5. But he’s only 13, so no. No. I’m not going to buy you this, kid.”

On how his passion for fatherhood has always been in him: “It’s funny – when most people asked, ‘What do you want to do when you grow up?’ – it certainly wasn’t, ‘A janitor.’ That was not my first choice. The only thing I ever said, growing up, was to be a good dad. And, I believe I fulfilled my promise to myself.”

On his position at St. Thomas, now five years on the St. Paul campus after three years on the Minneapolis campus: “I clean first floor library, first floor OEC, pretty much all of ’em. I really love my job.”

And on the dirty parts, especially the bathrooms: “There’s a reason why we wear gloves and look like we’re Darth Vader sometimes going into them! We don’t want to touch anything, either. Really, we don’t – we disinfect things for a reason.” Steve shared more at my prompting, but I will leave the rest to your wildest, grossest imaginings. And after you do – or even if you don’t – I encourage you to thank every janitor you see, for it’s work most of us don’t enjoy even when such messes are made by relatives. (Really, I mean big ewww on some of what these folks have to do.)

On being a newlywed: “I just got married in June! (At) Forbidden Falls in Hastings. It’s right off Highway 61 right by the big mill. This is my second time around so I know exactly what not to do.”

And so, of course, I had to press: What exactly shouldn’t husbands do? “Everything I did in my first marriage.”

On why he and Emily Rose chose a Friday the 13th and a full moon for their wedding day? “June 13. It was actually a Friday the 13th – and a full moon! It was the only one in 2014, and we found out that the next there’s going to be a full moon with a Friday the 13th is 2048. Dead serious.”

A bit about his catsOscar, Shadow and Mystery: “Mystery is 33 pounds. We call him the lap warmer because he’ll come over – and you can’t even see your lap. We have to give him baths because he can’t groom himself properly.”

On his Civil War interests and hobby: “I love reading about the Civil War. I used to be part of the infantry division that goes to Gettysburg and Vicksburg and does all the reenactments for the Civil War. And if I could say anything – it’s that everybody should try it. It’s really surreal.”

Why’s that? “There’s just a courage those guys had to have to stand there. You’re watching the guy across from you, packing his musket as quickly as he can so he can kill you. But in the reenactments we always aim high, just in case.”

On his favorite video game: “Baldur’s Gate Dark Alliance 2. It’s pretty much a guy with a sword runnin’ around trying to battle the forces of evil.”

Maybe the goal is similar to Steve and his mop attacking those high-traffic library floors? He wasn’t so sure my analogy was apt. He did grant (with our simultaneous laughter): “The forces of evil keep coming back every day – if we’re going to look at it that way!”

On growing up in Roseville and why he fully embraces the frigid winters: “I love the change of the seasons. I’ve you’ve ever gone down to Louisiana in the summer, you’ll find out you can’t take off enough clothes to keep comfortable.” In Minnesota, “You can layer up as much as you want to feel comfortable. And there’s no problem with that.”

On his greatest fear: “Spiders. Out of control. No. Out of control. Like, daddy longlegs – makes me run.”

As always, if you know a human at UST, do tell (cjbruess@stthomas.edu). I’d sure love to meet them and share their stories in 2015.

It dawned on me somewhere between Tomah and La Crosse as we rolled through the Wisconsin woodlands on Amtrak’s Empire Builder, heading back to the Twin Cities after four days in Chicago looking at impressionist paintings, listening to the blues and walking through Grant Park, where Mayor Richard Daley’s cops met the Vietnam War’s youthful antagonists.

The backbone of my life as a senior citizen, the sinew that holds it together, comes from the liberal arts part of my college degree. The diploma from the University of Wisconsin says I’m a journalism major, but it’s the “bachelor of arts” part that sticks with me.

I realize the emphasis these days for a college education must be on acquiring skills and knowledge necessary to land a job, particularly in the eyes of parents shelling out big bucks. But at 74, I’m remembering the classes in history, political science, music and philosophy. They add to the content, color and comfort of my life.

To any student at St. Thomas grumbling about having to take two philosophy and three theology courses to graduate, I’d say, “Trust me. When you’re older and grayer, from these you will find your comfort.”

(Photo by Jim Shoop)

I never spent much time in art museums when I was gainfully employed. Now that I’m properly retired, my friend Cindy Lamont and I spent a day wandering through the Art Institute of Chicago: 260,000 works of art encompassing 5,000 years of human expression from cultures around the world. The ones that grabbed my attention were paintings by Claude Monet – 30 of them – including his famous Water Lilies and six of his Haystacks. That leaves 23 I never did know about and got close enough to in Chicago to see the brush strokes, including a mountain valley scene with subtle sunlight and shadows, shapes and shades. I was reminded of a hike in Glacier National Park.

As I walked from one Monet to another, I kept thinking about that art history class I almost took but passed by because I didn’t think it had much to do with journalism and the career I hoped I had ahead of me.

(Photo by Jim Shoop)

I didn’t need a course to understand what had gone on in Grant Park as Cindy and I strolled along, the great lake on our right and the pricey shops of Chicago’s Miracle Mile on our left. Our traveling companions, Jim and Pris Shoop, had been in Chicago in August 1968, as Jim covered the Democrat National Convention that nominated Hubert Humphrey for president. They saw the confrontation between the cops and the war protesters, which led to a National Guard callout: 7,500 guardsmen to reinforce 12,000 Chicago cops. The images of some officers clubbing protesters were fodder for gavel-to-gavel television coverage, seriously damaging the image of the city and the party. Shoop recalled that some protesters looked for trouble, prodding and provoking, and he marveled at the restraint of the National Guard troops. They stood at port arms, he said, neither budging nor reacting.

(Photo by Jim Shoop)

Six blocks away from the gardens of Grant Park, we ended the day in the bar of Buddy Guy, Chicago’s man of the blues. Buddy was on tour but Eddie Taylor Jr. was more than enough to satisfy my blues craving. His father played with John Lee Hooker, and Eddie Jr. carried on: sweet and sorrowful, sensuous and soulful. The audience was a beautiful blend of generations, colors and cultures.

For those Tommies who take Chris Kachian’s Understanding Music and Culture course, they get exposed, I bet, to the blues. His tastes and interests are eclectic. And the man plays a mean mouth harp.

Meet best friends Meredith Heneghan and Albert Conteh. Albert is in my 9:35 a.m. family studies course and Meredith is in COJO 220 – Interpersonal Communication – immediately following. About week two of the semester I began noticing a contagious energy exchanged between the two. As classes changed from one to next (same room), they would greet each other, chat and friend-hug – usually with great animation and contorted, silly faces … plus the occasional inside joke (“We’re not just on the same wavelength, we’re on the same URL.”)

The following Wednesday, during one of those class-transitioning and hug-filled-good-morning-friend moments, Meredith and Albert simultaneously moved toward me with a collective, eager expression paired with a pleasing invitation. Surely I responded with inappropriate eye contact – frantically shifting my lecture materials, and my mindset, from last hour’s discussion (the ever-practical Symbolic Interactionism theory) to next hour’s interactive activity, which involved tying labels on people’s heads (to explore “self” as a social construction).

“Dr. Bruess, would you ever have coffee with us … just to get to know each other better?”

My response came immediately and explosively from my mouth, unfortunately with the ever-annoying and high-pitched Carol timbre: “OF COURSE!”

And thus it was that an idea was born: 2 students + 1 professor + 3 mugs of fall beverages + 1 tiny corner in Coffee Bene = a new series for The Scroll.

In an overly obvious nod to Brandon Stanton’s ever-popular “Humans of New York” blog and book by the same title, why not catalogue a few of St. Thomas’ “inhabitants?”

We quite deserve regular glimpses – like I was getting of Meredith and Albert on that chilly fall afternoon – into the daily lives and denizens of our beautiful campus community. Lucky for me, uber-talented sophomore Elena Neuzil – a some-day famous photographer, I predict – has agreed to help capture the faces via her sharp eye and Canon SLR while I share Scroll-sized slices of their stories (via my wanderings about campus and obsession with talking to, well, other humans).

And so begins the first installment of – wait for it – our very own “Humans of St. Thomas.”

Meredith and Albert (Photo by Elena Neuzil)

Meredith is a junior; Albert, a senior. He’s from Sierra Leone; she’s from southern Wisconsin. He, in his own words, “is extremely gay.” Her ultimate dream? “Being a mommy some day.”

Meredith, on life: “My sister is my hero. She shows me what determination means. She shows me that it’s okay to not always say everything.”

Albert, on life goals: “I want to impact our society in a positive way through my passion of performing. And I know wherever life takes me, if I’m on stage, I will be the happiest.”

Meredith, on St. Thomas: “This place challenges me to always be considering and re-defining my values and beliefs. I love that I am a part of community that forces me to critically evaluate and explain myself, sometimes to people who have never heard an explanation like mine.”

Albert, on friendship: “When an individual is able to have one view, but have the uncanny ability to see the other side. I love when people have a willingness to try new things. I believe open people have such a beautiful perception in the world.”

Meredith: Works at the Center for Writing and the Loft. She loves banana chocolate chip bread. And doodling.

Albert: Has seven older sisters. He was the first to be born in the United States.

Meredith: Is minoring in American culture and difference and majoring in family studies. Her favorite color is yellow.

Albert: Will graduate in seven weeks with a major in psychology and minor in family studies. First thing he’ll do when the diploma arrives? “Take a photo of my new diploma, with an eye-appealing filter. Then post it on all my social media: #GUESSIT’SOFFICAL #COLLEGEGRAD #GROWNUPSTATUS #ALUM!” He admits he’ll also toast himself with an appropriate drink.

Meredith: “My spirit animal is a hummingbird. They’re tiny but stunning, and the world slows down when I see one.”

Albert: “I’m a major sucker for the hipster-chic fashion. Obsessed!”

Meredith, on her obsession: “I had to buy a whole new water bottle this summer to accommodate my sticker collection.”

Albert, reflecting on his most profound St. Thomas experiences: “Those outstanding educators who took the time to connect with me. To inspire me. And my VISION experience that challenged my perception of the world. I’ve appreciated all of that. And the beautifully, amazing, outstanding, fantastic friends. I love St. Thomas because, if you give it a chance, it can be the best environment to be in.”

Meredith, on life lessons learned – so far, anyway: “I’ve already learned how to be excessively optimistic, how to have a healthy sleep schedule and how to write a kick-butt paper. I’ve learned that comparison is the thief of joy. And that it’s OK to change your mind. I’ve learned when it’s a good idea to apologize, and when it’s time to say goodbye.”

Know some humans at UST? Do tell, because I’d sure love to meet them and share their stories. I’m at cjbruess@stthomas.edu.

Fall has officially arrived in Minnesota. The leaves have turned from green to brilliant shades of red, yellow and orange, and are falling from the trees. The air is crisp and students are pulling out their scarves and sweaters. The change of seasons brings a host of fun traditions at St. Thomas. Here are just a few of my favorite ways to celebrate autumn:

Walk along the Mississippi River. At St. Thomas, we are so lucky to have a beautiful campus situated between Minneapolis and St. Paul, and just a short walk from the Mississippi River. This time of year is perfect for a walk on the path along Mississippi River Boulevard. There is a marvelous view of the river and the beautiful fall colors.

Visit an apple orchard on Tuesday, Oct. 14. St. Thomas Activities and Recreation (STAR) organizes a ton of great events for students throughout the year, including numerous opportunities to celebrate the different seasons. One quintessential fall activity is a trip to a local apple orchard or pumpkin patch to take advantage of the fall harvest. Pick your own apples, drink warm apple cider and eat delicious apple treats to really get yourself into the spirit of autumn. Buses will leave at 4 p.m. on Tuesday from Flynn Hall.

Celebrate St. Thomas at Purple on the Plaza. Put on your purple and show your Tommie pride at Purple on the Plaza during home football games. Nothing screams fall quite like football and grilling out with Tommie.

Get scared at Haunted Cretin. When talking about fall, you can’t forget Halloween, and St. Thomas does this holiday justice with Haunted Cretin. This will be the 25th year that south campus offers ghostly tours of Cretin and Grace halls.

Second only to commencement, the president’s academic convocation is the time for pomp and circumstance, reflection and invigoration. This year the theme was power.

Dr. Corrine Carvalho, chair of the faculty, set the stage with words from student Mike Best and words from Henry David Thoreau in Civil Disobedience. Together these words reminded us that knowledge is power but knowledge without action is useless and weak.

Then the gonfalon fell. Now if you missed it, you will think I am making up this part. It was the School of Engineering banner. Right behind Dean Don Weinkauf’s head! Don leapt into action; no weakness there. He may have had a bit of trouble with the knowledge part, though. The bloomin’ banner kept slipping down the pole. Don, however, is never without resources. Employing his deanly powers of delegation, he immediately sought help from behind-the-scenes expert and actuarial science major Ben Rasche, who brought knowledge and action together to raise the flag high.

As I listened to her vision for our future, illustrated by an avatar shifting shape and shifting scene, I thought about the power in the room. Filled with faculty and administrators together, OEC auditorium displayed the power needed for the changes Dr. Sullivan described – globalization, diversity and inclusion, national recognition for quality, connection to the Twin Cities, and disciplinary and interdisciplinary inquiry, inspired by Catholic thought.

Statistician that he is, Associate Vice President for Institutional Effectiveness Mike Cogan did a word count on the address. The most frequently used word by far was “students,” 45 times. That is as it should be and not surprising. Other biggies included “world,” “working,” “community” and “changing.” These are indeed inspiring.

Economist that I am, I moved quickly from inspiration to contrarian worry. Haunted by thinkers of the past, I channeled Lord Acton – “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” At the very least, all this power is scary – and indeed the vision is a big bite to chew. We all worry about how we fit in, how we can contribute. What if the gonfalon falls on us?

But truly, the power of imagination is great. I can envision all of us working together so that the avatar of the future visits an amazing University of St. Thomas.

Dr. Sullivan asked, “How bold will we be?” and quoted our founder Archbishop John Ireland, who said, “For as we will it, so shall the future be.” I put aside my doubts and dumped Acton for T.S. Eliot:

As humans, we all care about others. It’s indisputably in our nature and at our very core. Sometimes we don’t show it fully or properly, but it’s in us. Really. Deeply.

As most of you are well aware, our tendency to care about and for others has been witnessed in a viral way the past few weeks. If you have been one of those multiple millions of people who already have participated in helping raise nearly $100 million toward the devastating disease of ALS, you’re guilty of caring, too. You’re guilty of helping rid the world of another nasty, heart-wrenching, painful killer.

As expected in a world of smart, critical thinkers, there has been criticism of the infamous Ice Bucket Challenge: What about all of the other nasty diseases, syndromes and killers? What about the other causes that need and deserve funding? What about the way the millions of dollars will be used? What about wasted clean water? And related social questions: Are people participating and posting funny, ouch-worthy videos because they are narcissistic? Because they are mindlessly bowing to the social pressure to do what is trendy? Because they just want to get more “likes” on their video than the person before them?

Good questions. I don’t have all of the answers, but I can explain why I personally was among those happily doused with 20 gallons of icy water last week and donated funds to support the care of current ALS patients and their families: Our colleague Bruce Kramer, former dean of the College of Education, Leadership and Counseling, has the use of 0 limbs, 0 fingers and 0 toes because of ALS, and he can’t bounce his new granddaughter on his knee. Our family’s closest friend, Richard Johnson – grandfather to UST sophomore Janie Swingle – died last fall after his courageous battle with ALS.

Thanks, Lou Gehrig’s Disease, for giving me the chance to witness our friend end up with 0 use of his body while his mind was at 100 percent strength. Thanks for leaving us helpless and hopeless. Almost everyone I know has a story of _______ (fill in name and relationship) who is living with, has died from, is or has been affected by ALS. If you can’t fill in that blank yet, don’t worry; you will some day.

The UST community is guilty of caring, too. On Thursday (Sept. 4) at 3:30 p.m., hundreds of students, faculty, staff, alums and neighbors will gather on the quad with purple buckets filled with bone-chilling ice water. Why? Because we CARE! It’s not because we care about one particular disease more than others – but because we at St. Thomas care about reducing suffering of those we know and those we don’t know. We care about raising awareness about many diseases and the importance of ethical, life-saving research of all kinds … the very research skills we are teaching our graduate students and undergrads. We care about each other exactly the way our founder Archbishop John Ireland hoped and prayed we would when he founded St. Thomas 129 years ago this week.

We also care about teaching and learning. I see the lessons we are learning by watching a social and human campaign go so viral so quickly as an incredibly opportunity for studying how innovations, social change and messages can be effectively diffused across multiple populations, states, countries and even continents. Sounds like a great case study for a number of our courses and conversations in many corners of camps, eh? I for one will critically examine the nature of successful snowball messaging in my own communication courses; I’m confident we can learn much from the ALS Ice Bucket campaign to help us critically examine the power of social media to inspire (and/or thwart) multiple types of social action and change.

You might have objections to the Ice Bucket Challenge because some ALS research involves use of embryonic stem cells. The Catholic Church opposes such research, and the ALS association has agreed to UST’s request that funds raised in the Ice Bucket Challenge on campus will not be used for embryonic stem cell research.

If you still have objections, here’s a fact: You surely and absolutely care about many things that have to do with making life better for others, right? Yep, we’re all guilty as charged – of caring. Because we’re human, just the way we were designed to be.

See you on Thursday! Buckets, water, ice and towels will be provided, as will an inspiring message from President Julie Sullivan, who cares about humans and alleviating suffering.

And, seriously, how often do you get to see our president soaking wet? I, for one, am not going to miss the chance.

I went with my lovely housemates to a soup dinner a few weeks ago. The church that was holding the dinner sold handmade bowls and filled them with tasty soup, a pretty cool idea in my opinion. I chose a bowl I thought was particularly beautiful. It was red, my favorite color, and the rim was dipped in a robin’s egg blue glaze. As a side note, I have always wanted to throw a bowl, particularly in the Greek sense (“Opa!”), but mostly in the pottery sense. There’s something very beautiful about the work of someone’s hands, formed and frozen in time by fire.

I noticed the bowl had a saying etched inside: “The Strength to Keep Going.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. But since then, I have thought of it a great deal, especially as I prepare to graduate from St. Thomas on Saturday. As I have eaten my honey nut cereal each morning (or at least the mornings when I chose to prioritize breakfast over those last few precious minutes of sleep), I have been drawn to consider that idea – the strength to keep going. What is the strength I have and what do I lack? What will get me through the very end of the semester, the emotionally draining goodbyes, the exit back through the Arches and into the mysterious summer? What will make the job search, the impending loan payments, the car purchase and everything beyond manageable?

I think that strength comes, like my breakfast cereal, day by day. As I have walked and lived on these campus grounds, St. Thomas has taught me to take one step at time to develop smarts and to develop virtue. It’s a work in progress, and I’m not done learning by any standard, but I have a drive to love well and live well that I simply didn’t have before college. I am seeking knowledge and grace anew, as well as a combination of patience, courage, trust, hope and humility. My prayer on my way out: Lord, grant me the patience to deal with things as they come, the courage to try, even if I’m not sure of succeeding, and the assurance that it will all come together in the way it’s supposed to.

Thank you, family and friends, St. Thomas and the St. Thomas community, for a formative, enjoyable and memorable four years!

When Derek Jeter, one of the New York Yankees’ all-time greats, announced in February that he would retire after this season, I couldn’t shake one question:

What, exactly, is the game of baseball without Derek Jeter?

I find myself thinking these days along similar lines about Dave Nimmer, who is nearing the end of his time at the University of St. Thomas. For those of you unfamiliar with “Nim,” he is the voice of those UST videos and the writer of those blogs in The Scroll. He is an avid supporter of ThreeSixty Journalism, a nonprofit on campus that teaches high school students about journalism. I could talk all day about Nim’s achievements and influence in the world of journalism – former newspaper reporter and editor at the Minneapolis Star, former reporter and associate news director at WCCO-TV, former assistant professor of journalism at St. Thomas for more than a decade – but that’s not my goal.

Life is so much more than a career and awards. More important, I believe, are the people with whom you develop a relationship along the way. My relationship with Nimmer, a man 48 years my senior, has been one of the great blessings of my life.

What, exactly, is the University of St. Thomas without Dave Nimmer?

I met Nim during my junior year at St. Thomas when I applied for a summer job as a video editor at ThreeSixty. I had less experience than other candidates when I “interviewed” with Nim for the job, so he hired someone else.

The end. Right?

Except, Nim didn’t quit on me. He introduced me to ThreeSixty executive director Lynda McDonnell, who hired me in a different capacity, and to St. Thomas videographer Brad Jacobsen, who brought me on as a video production assistant.

More doors opened for me in the next year than I could have predicted. Nim built the foundation. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. I am sure of it.

Nim once wrote that I give more to him than he can give to me. That can’t be true. I worked next to Brad and Dave as they traversed campus, the metro area and greater Minnesota to shoot video projects. As an aspiring journalist, I picked up more watching the two of them work than I could have anywhere else on campus. If you have seen Nimmer interview someone, then you know what I mean: He has this magical ability to get people to talk. In the midst of a 10-minute conversation, he makes you feel both special and important.

But as a young man, I have learned from Dave more about life than about journalism. Our conversations have spanned everything from the human condition, for which Nim has an uncanny sense of empathy, to our loved ones and our futures. He has showed me in subtle ways what it means to be a compassionate man in this world, to become a lifelong learner, to relate to other people.

I would be lying if I said I have never doubted myself and my journalistic career. As a mentor, Dave always has believed in me – and told me as much – even at times when I fail to believe in myself. He’s willing to help me along the way. He cares when he doesn’t have to.

That’s just one of many reasons why it’s so difficult for me to imagine St. Thomas without Nimmer tucked away in his OEC basement office, reclined in his chair while he shoots the breeze on the phone. Or walking the halls of campus, newspaper in hand, on his way to grab a bite to eat. Or using “How ya doin?” for a conversation starter as he offers up a chair. Or perching on a stool next to Brad’s camera, keeping the person across from the lens calm and loose before Brad hits “record.”

Dave knows the time is approaching for him to move on to the next step in his journey. But the question remains: What, exactly, is the University of St. Thomas without Dave Nimmer?

I don’t know. Like Derek Jeter and baseball, I know I won’t be able to ever separate the two.

As I was driving along I-94 not long ago heading west to St. Thomas, my wipers were scraping snow – not rain – off the windshield. I felt more than a little silly having just put the reels on my fishing rods in preparation for the early crappie action on my little lake.

I was trying to recall what spring felt like and why I looked forward to it so much, particularly after a winter like this past one. Yep, I’m ready for a clean car, warm hands, short sleeves and longer days.

Dave Nimmer

I also relish the feel of spring on campus, sitting on the John P. Monahan Plaza in front of the Anderson Student Center. Plopped on a bench, feet on top of the side of the fountain, I must look like an old, black Lab soaking in the sunshine in front of his doghouse in the backyard. It feels luxurious, peaceful and so very appropriate. From that perch, I get a wide-angle view of students walking across the quad with phones to their ears, John Ireland’s steely gaze and a row of two-wheelers in the bike stand next to OEC.

While I’m lounging in the sun, students are actually reading and studying outside. I watch ’em as I walk along Cleveland Avenue to my car, lying under the branches of an old, oak tree sitting atop a small mound, just southeast of Ireland Hall. Usually they are women – feet in the air, book on the ground, hand under the chin.

For some reason, I think of a Norman Rockwell painting, something I might have seen on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. It’s a retro thought for a modern student, who undoubtedly has her smart phone within arm’s reach.

Another piece of campus real estate I like in the spring is the track around the football field, especially early in the morning. Sometimes, I’ll set foot on the artificial turf and imagine I’m running the final leg of the 880-yard relay. I have a five-yard deficit as I get the baton and sprint ahead.

In my Walter Mitty dream, I make up the lost ground and pull away at the finish. In real life, I walk once around the track at a brisk pace before getting my coffee in the library.

Finally, just off campus I find the smell of springtime. It’s along Mississippi River Boulevard, at the end of Summit Avenue. As I walk, I believe I can detect the aroma from rotting wood, muddy water and floating fish. Yep, the old river smells fishy. I can’t tell you exactly what it is, but take it from a guy who’s spent days and months in a boat with a fishing pole in his hand.

Fishy. Get out and smell for yourself.

]]>http://www.stthomas.edu/news/scroll-ready-spring/feed/0The Scroll: Paying for College One Quarter at a Timehttp://www.stthomas.edu/news/scroll-paying-college-one-quarter-time/ http://www.stthomas.edu/news/scroll-paying-college-one-quarter-time/#commentsMon, 05 May 2014 00:15:43 +0000http://www.stthomas.edu/news/?p=143750

Jim Oberstar loved to tell stories about growing up on the Iron Range – and at the College of St. Thomas – and how they provided the foundation for an extraordinarily successful career in Congress.

The skinny kid from Chisholm, who died Saturday, may not have seemed a likely candidate for college in the early 1950s. His dad was a miner and his mom worked in a shirt factory, and they told their three sons the best way to get ahead in life was to get a good education.

At a St. Thomas luncheon years ago, Oberstar recalled how he went through his dad’s belongings after his death and found an old bank passbook with scores of entries.

“Every payday, dad went to the home of the S.N.P.J. (Slovenian) lodge treasurer and put 25 cents in an account,” Oberstar said. “That was the equivalent, then, of an hour’s wage in the depth of the Depression. He couldn’t afford to do that, but he did it. Those quarters added up, and they helped me go to college.”

Oberstar enrolled at St. Thomas in 1953, lived in Ireland Hall and majored in political science and French. He developed a love of French, which he spoke fluently throughout his life, from professor Herbert Willging, and he credited professors such as G.W.C. Ross in political science and James McGraw in English for instilling intellectual discipline.

During an English constitutional history class, “Dr. Ross said that we would memorize the succession of English kings,” Oberstar recalled in a St. Thomas magazine profile in 2006. “I told him, ‘I’m not so good at memorization.’ He said, ‘Well, young man, you’ll need to be.’ ”

McGraw told students they would learn how to write simple declarative sentences, and Oberstar was stunned: “I thought, ‘What am I doing here? I can write. I got A’s in English.’ I got my first paper back – all torn apart. We spent three weeks writing sentences and a month writing paragraphs. Only at the end of the semester were we able to write an essay.”

Oberstar remembered those lessons well. He graduated summa cum laude in 1956, won a scholarship to the College of Europe in Belgium and received a master’s degree in European Studies. After teaching French and Creole in Haiti, he became an aide to Rep. John Blatnik, who represented northeastern Minnesota in Congress, and succeeded Blatnik in 1975.

Over the next 36 years, Oberstar earned a reputation as one of the most powerful and influential members of Congress on transportation issues. He became the senior Democrat on the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee, and in 2007 he realized his dream of serving as the committee’s chair.

I had interviewed Oberstar the previous year for the St. Thomas magazine profile, spending a day with him and observing a half-dozen meetings with constituent groups. We sat in chairs arranged in a circle in his Rayburn Building office and he listened closely to what each person had to say.

The meetings were impressive in how they showcased his common touch. Here was a leader who shaped national transportation legislation and helped to determine projects that would receive billions of dollars in federal funding, but he also was willing to take time every day to listen to people on any and all issues.

“Now you see why I like my job?” he asked after the last visitor departed that day. “It’s very stimulating. I don’t choose who comes to see me – they do. They are carrying out a provision of the Constitution – the right to see their congressman.”

And he never forgot his roots. He laughed loudly and slapped his knee when asked if he ever wondered what an Iron Range kid – and the son of a miner who saved for a college education 25 cents at a time – was doing in the nation’s capital.

“I think about it every day!” he said. “When the ambassador of China comes here to talk with me, I’m saying to myself, ‘This guy represents 1.3 billion people. I come from Chisholm, population 5,000 people. It’s extraordinary.’

My March Scroll, “The Science of Relationships,” came with a promise: this follow-up blog with the five remaining “Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work” from the guru of all relationship researchers, Dr. John Gottman. If you’re just tuning in, not having read Part I, no problem. But let’s be clear: These aren’t just lightly distributed tips or sugary-sounding suggestions; they are truths backed up by decades of the best scientific evidence we have in the world about relationship longevity and goodness.

Carol Bruess

While my own husband of 22 years often quips that our “marriage is a petri dish” (whatever) and that he is the tallest human communication guinea pig ever (true), he will admit if pushed (not even that hard) that Gottman’s principles are helpful and even applicable in other human relationships (bonus!). There you have it, a sample size (N=2) of two Bruesses … oh, plus thousands of couples in Gottman’s actual longitudinal data set, from which these prized principles have emerged:

Principle Three: Swell your emotional bank account. If you have built up good feelings, they can be cushions when conflict and stress arrive in your relationship – and they will. The currency of a “rich” marriage is free, and it’s called turning towards. When we turn toward each other – notice, acknowledge, respond, are positive and kind, listen, are gentle, express even the slightest bit of care in words and actions – we build a more profound friendship accomplished mindfully moment after moment and day after day. The opposite of turning towards? Turning away, usually accomplished unintentionally and in little acts: half-listening, neutral responses and even lack of interest in the other’s comment or fleeting observation. Turning away can be so slight and brief that it often goes unnoticed … until it adds up. Even small debits, unfortunately, add up to large relationship deficits.

Principle Four is about influence – and being open to it from your partner. Long-term happy relationships are marked by two people willing to be influenced by each other. A lot. And often. Being influenced = respect. Lack of respect in relationships = demise.

Principle Five. Sorry – this one you need to read, in full, straight from Gottman’s book. It’s about conflict … but a fresh take (finally!), including a formula to figure out which of your conflicts are perpetual versus solvable. Ah – freedom! When you know which is which, you decide on successful coping and management strategies. This principle should be its own book. For now, get a copy of seven principles and keep it on the bedside table.

Principle Six: Even loving, low-conflict couples can become gridlocked on perpetual (usually tenacious) conflict topics. Getting out gridlock and back into dialogue is essential. Anyone committed to a long-term relationship knows that is easier said than done, right? But Gottman (and the master couples in his research) teach us how, and it starts with becoming a detective into your partner’s hopes, aspirations and wishes – what Gottman calls “dreams.” Interestingly, over the long haul of marriage, our dreams often become hidden – buried deeply and unarticulated – sometimes even from ourselves.

If I could pick my favorite, it would be Principle Seven – the single notion driving my own 23-years-and-counting research agenda, on how couples create shared meaning. Doing so can happen by developing and sustaining rituals of connection (both the big and the mundane), nicknames (no need to tell others!), and joint storytelling (what’s the worst and best memory of your wedding day?). Really, shared meaning is built in any moment or way that advances understanding of what it means to be in this thing – this family, this relationship, this “us.” If you are successfully mastering the first six principles, you likely already are realizing the seventh. But not always, and if not, rest assured: This is usually the most fun “task” of them all. And yes, relationships should be fun (at least some of the time).

As for the beloved tall guinea pig in my house, he recently has given birth to a new (bad) idea: penning his own book on the topic of long-term happy marriage. Barnes & Noble, do you have room on your shelves for What Happy Couples Do: The Other Side of the Story – Lessons from a Man Married to a Marriage Researcher? Competition for Gottman? Doubtful. Good laughs? For sure. Research does say that (humor) is absolutely essential in marriage. Whew.

I recently read a story in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Business Journal about how one man decided to “disconnect – not from each other, but from one of the biggest time wasters for most Americans: Television.” In the story, he talks about how his life has benefited from not watching TV. Intrigued, I decided to try it out in my own life and take it one step further. For one week, I decided to not only remove TV from my life but also my smartphone.

Kim Rueb

I agree with the writer of the Business Journal story that TV is a time waster, but ever since I got an iPhone, I find that using it to engage in social media is a bigger time waster and can suck me in for hours. I easily find myself getting drawn into who posted what on Facebook and what new pictures are on Instagram.

I am the type of person who likes TV for background noise and almost always have it on, so in the first day of the experiment, I had to consistently remind myself not to touch the remote. Like the writer said, the programs I was watching were not anything of quality, especially the reality TV shows I get sucked into on the Bravo network.

In the past I found that at almost any free instant, I would take out my phone and “quick check” Facebook or Instagram or see if there were any new posts. But this “quick” look would easily turn into five minutes. It’s hard for me to even remember the time before my smartphone when I didn’t have countless apps and social media right at my fingertips every second of the day.

When I took these things out of my life, I felt liberated and I actually felt like I had more time in each day. I don’t always have to be watching something or looking at something on my phone. It is OK to just be quiet with my thoughts and to enjoy my kids without taking their picture when they do something cute. Just the other day, my 6-month-old daughter was intently watching her 2-year-old brother when she started laughing the most adorable little giggle. Instead of interrupting this beautiful moment by grabbing my phone to take a video, I stayed still and watched, recording everything in my memory and truly taking it all in.

I always knew this, but I realized even more that to really enjoy the moments in my life, I need to savor them and not interrupt them by taking a quick picture or video and posting it online. I will remember these moments even if I don’t record them and I will enjoy them even more by being fully present and not distracted by my phone or the TV. The time I have with my family and friends is precious, and they deserve my undivided attention, not to compete with any electronic devices or social media.

As St. Thomas goes about setting goals, defining standards and making adjustments in an increasingly competitive higher-education market place, I trust that great teaching for undergraduates will be at, or near, the top of any list. The engine that will power St. Thomas in decades to come is the quality of its teaching: engaging students, encouraging passion, prompting inquiry and inspiring discussion.

Dave Nimmer

When I was adviser to The Aquin years ago, reading copy with its young editors on a Wednesday night, I couldn’t help but overhear their candid opinions of professors who were teaching their classes. On a few occasions, they had some withering comments. Most of the time, however, they talked about teachers they liked, and a name I heard frequently was psychology professor John Buri.

So when sophomore Ali Jacobsen told me she was going to take the Psychology of Marriage and Family course over January Term this year, I asked her to take a few notes about Buri’s teaching. I never sat in on one of his classes and had wondered how he made such positive connections to students.

Jacobsen is a good student: conscientious, responsible and responsive. She wants to be a teacher and can appreciate the art and craft of managing a classroom. She’s also a student who usually is not the first to put her hand in the air to ask a question or volunteer an opinion.

Dr. John Buri

“He talks openly about his own life,” she wrote, “making students feel comfortable and willing to do the same.” This was not a class, however, of anecdotes and war stories. Buri uses two texts, including Human Intimacy: Marriage, the Family and Its Meaning. The book, according to its publisher, discusses the characteristics of successful intimate relationships and teaches skills that lead to strong marriages and families. The 624-page text also covers topics such as diversity within families, gay marriages, cohabitation, gender roles, theories of love, date rape and courtship violence – as well as parenting and life stages.

Jacobsen read the book and appreciated the ways that Buri related topics on the printed page to instances in real life, “making the class interesting and worth going to every day.”

“He shows concern and interest in all of his students, making each student feel comfortable and welcome,” Jacobsen wrote. Buri also impressed her with his knowledge of the subject – answering almost any question a student would ask – and his willingness to look deeper into anything that intrigued the class.

Most important of all, she concluded, he “creates a safe environment to share within the classroom, allowing students to make connections with one another and become closer.”

Students talking to students in class! How sweet it was when it happened in one of my news reporting classes: It’s Tuesday, gang, and Russia just annexed the province of Crimea. How big of a story is this for your local readers (or viewers)? Where do you want to go, to whom do you talk and what do you want to know?

That’s when a class comes alive. That’s what happened for Ali Jacobsen. I don’t know what her final grade was. I never asked.

Ever since I boldly offered my opinion of two prominent St. Thomas outdoor sculptures (“Ten Things I Hate About St. Thomas”) in November 2012, campus art cognoscenti have sought my advice on art.

Consequently, I have decided to order new business cards – Susan Alexander, noted art critic and economist.

When Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell (Art History) heard this, he gently suggested that I might need more of a track record before going professional. In an effort to build my reputation, I am following up with additional musings about UST artwork.

First of all, contrary to rumor, we do have art that I like. I am particularly fond of Constellation Earth on the O’Shaughnessy-Frey Library plaza. It brings the sense of connectedness that universities should foster.

That’s not all. I am proud of our Asmat art collection. Not only is it one of the largest in the world, but pieces from the collection have been on exhibit at the Minneapolis Institute of Art and the Musical Instruments Museum in Arizona. I love seeing those “On Loan from the University of St. Thomas” tags.

We also have a magnificent collection from the estate of local collector Dolly Fiterman.

But really one does not make a name in art criticism by being nice. So . . .

I considered critiquing Frank Gehry’s Winton Guest House on the Owatonna campus. After all, the house is small and has no plumbing. How long would any guest want to stay under those circumstances? But Victoria Young (Art History) is still speaking to me, and I want to keep it that way. Maybe there is an Andy Warhol port-a-potty we could purchase for the house.

My next idea was an exposé of “In the Beginning” on South Campus. The problem with this option is that I do not understand the work. I cannot tell front from back, or beginning from end. Looked at one way, the piece starts with the less well-defined figure near the corner and works toward the fully developed literary woman. But it also makes sense to start from reading woman and work toward the liberated, open flying figure. I may be too linear a thinker for the art critic gig. My attention span also may be too short – I look at this piece for five minutes and my mind wanders to Roger Vadim’s “And God Created Woman.” I’m pretty sure that the sculptor was not thinking of the 1956 film and Brigitte Bardot.

Okay, here’s my last shot at fame. “The Family” sculpture strikes me as exemplary of all that was wrong with Soviet industrial art. The title actually may be “the Nuclear Family;” there is no longer an identifying placard. It probably had one when it was located on the east wall of the old field house. While there are many reasons to be pleased with the AARC, not the least for me was not having to pass by “The Family” every day on my way into the office. When “The Family” was dismantled during construction, I heard that the university might be willing to part with it. My heart leapt. Then I found out the piece weighs three tons and no one was willing to pay the $40,000 to relocate it. I am not easily discouraged, however, and I started a rumor it was three tons of solid copper. Surely someone would steal it for scrap value! No such luck – it is now securely attached to the east side of Brady Educational Center. I hear it was on the west side, but the community garden eggplant threatened ratatouille and the tomatoes withered on the vine.

As a second-year graduate student in St. Thomas’ Leadership in Student Affairs program, as well as a graduate student employee for Residence Life and the Anderson Student Center, my involvement with Student Leadership Selection has been an incredibly rewarding professional experience.

Nick Goffard

For the past two years, I have had the pleasure of interviewing undergraduate students for Tommie Central staff, and resident assistant and apartment coordinator positions. As I witness these students showcasing their many strengths, I cannot help but reminisce about my undergraduate years and the many life-altering lessons I gained as a result of on-campus leadership positions.

Setting foot on the UW-Eau Claire campus for the first time, I recall the importance of “getting involved” and “adding experiences to (my) resume” – mantras instilled in me by campus mentors. Having successfully attained positions with Admissions, Student Senate and my residence hall, I took for granted how those experiences would influence my entire outlook on life – motivating me to study abroad, apply for graduate school and ultimately pursue a career in student affairs.

However, earning such leadership opportunities was not necessarily easy. Looking back, I remember the tediousness and anxiety elicited by the student leadership selection processes. They occurred around the same time (typically the beginning and end of the academic year), and most required identical materials (resume, cover letter, list of references and supplemental application questions). As a result, students spent countless hours applying for, interviewing and awaiting the results of various positions across campus.

Back then, I never would have thought student leadership recruitment would gain more digital momentum. Rather than applying for positions individually via email, many institutions now offer an online, centralized leadership selection process. One aspect I enjoy about Student Leadership Selection at St. Thomas are the promotional posters. They are a great way to showcase the alter egos of current student leaders and they outline the leadership opportunities conveniently available to students. On the Student Leadership Selection website, students click once and are presented with 15 leadership possibilities – the kind that could very well change their lives forever.

Not only does Student Leadership Selection benefit students but it also promotes interdepartmental collaboration among staff. I have gained valuable insight into the specific qualities that departments look for in student leaders. As a result, in working with students, I am able to help tailor their position to produce desired leadership qualities. I believe that Student Leadership Selection, like all initiatives at St. Thomas, aims first and foremost to fulfill our institutional mission – to help students think critically, act wisely, and work skillfully to advance the common good.

As I look ahead to my career after graduating in May from St. Thomas, I hope my next institution offers a similar initiative – one ascertaining leadership opportunities available to students and emphasizing the importance those positions have on their holistic development. Although my undergraduate years seem forever ago, I know I would not be where I am today without the experiences I gained through on-campus leadership. I hope students graduate from St. Thomas knowing their leadership involvement here will enhance their opportunities to serve as the leaders of tomorrow.

I get a lot of grief for being on sabbatical. From friends. From extended family. From the children to whom I gave birth 14 and 18 years ago. Even from colleagues, although mostly those who have not yet taken a sabbatical or are not eligible for one. Some of the razzing comes – deservedly – from Scroll readers who read my “10 Things I Hate” blog about this year away from regular work obligations. Hellooo … it was supposed to be funny. Yes, sabbaticals are magical times of crazy, productive thinking, writing and gaining perspective on the work and institution we love so much!

Carol Bruess

Last month, my sabbatical work took me to a place I’ve had on my professional bucket list for more than two decades. It’s a sacred place where relationship researchers, educators and therapists came together to learn about the science of making relationships work. And we learned from not just any old run-of-the-mill academic, but from a team that works with the best relationship researcher in the world. Literally. Not exaggerating.

His name? Dr. John Gottman. His research? Forty-plus years of longitudinal data with couples, examining what makes marriage work. His substantiated claim? The ability to predict divorce with 94 percent accuracy by observing couples communicating for just minutes. Oh, and he not only predicts divorce, but he – thank goodness –has figured out how couples must behave (the dissolution-prevention, happiness-inducing behaviors) if they want to circumvent the “my marriage crumbled” reality.

His institute? The Gottman Relationship Institute at the University of Washington, where I and more than 100 like-minded colleagues participated in an intensive workshop on the science of relationships.

My goal? A deep-dive into Gottman’s methods, findings and his research team’s mission to publish and educate about the most credible, important and powerful lessons for creating and sustaining long-term, healthy relationships.

While I have taught Gottman’s research in my classes for two decades, I sat in awe at the workshop, each hour feeling like mere minutes. My giddy researcher-educator self was pumping with happy adrenaline. I finally was getting to ask some of my burning questions about the research, its implications and the many ways it can be translated. I was most pumped up knowing I would bring it all back to St. Thomas, feeling inspired to develop new research projects and share with students. Oh, and with everyone who will listen (Scroll readers!) because these principles have application with everyone in our lives: colleagues, friends, roommates, family . . . and even strangers. We all thrive on positive interactions.

Below are the first two of Gottman’s Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, also the title of his best-selling book on this research. The other five principles will appear in upcoming Scrolls. For now, how are you doing on these?

Dr. Carol Bruess has taught Dr. John M.Gottman’s research in her classes for two decades.

Principle No. 1: “In Knowledge There Is Strength.” Couples who weather the storms of married life have what Gottman calls “detailed love maps.” A love map is the place in your brain where Gottman’s research suggests you store all relevant information about your partner’s life. Or, in other words, the marriage masters (versus the marital disasters) make sure they have plenty of cognitive room for their marriage. How can you refresh or update the love map of your partner? Ask questions and then want to hear (and remember) the answers. Such as: “Honey, what are you fearing the most in life right now?” or “Who are two people you most admire?” We tend to know these and a hundred other personal things about each other early in marriage. But over time, couples tend to lose sight of each other, and without a detailed love map they also are likely to lose sight of their marriage. Luckily, love maps are free and you can work on yours starting right now. It just takes intention.

Principle No. 2: “Nurture Fondness and Admiration.” Here’s a truth about humans: we like to be admired and appreciated. In long-term relationships, we tend to do less and less of it while doing more of what Gottman has pinpointed as the relational cancers: expressing contempt and defensiveness. It’s natural for humans to get defensive when they are criticized and to act with contempt when they are angry. But it’s bad for relationships. To fill your relational and emotional bank account, here’s the antidote to contempt: fan the flames of positive feelings about your partner and let him or her know about it. Start by writing a three things you appreciate about your partner. Pick from Gottman’s pre-determined list if you’d like: “You, partner, are: Loving. Sensitive. Brave. Intelligent. Truthful. Strong. Energetic. Creative. Fun. Interesting. Funny. Considerate. Resourceful. Expressive. Careful. Reliable. Kind. Practical. Gentle. Witty. Tender. Powerful. Flexible.” Make up others! And share them over dinner tonight. Then again next week … and again soon thereafter. Make it a ritual, and your relationship likely will last for a long time.

Epilogue: If you want to read the more about Gottman’s studies, get a copy of the seminal What Predicts Divorce? The Relationship Between Marital Processes and Marital Outcomes (1993, Psychology Press). My other Gottman favorites: The Relationship Cure (2002, Harmony Press) and The Science of Trust: Emotional Attunement for Couples (2011, W. W. Norton Press).

And if you invite me to your wedding or anniversary party, expect to receive a copy of one of the above (plus a bottle of fine wine to sip while you read and discuss with your partner).

This semester is kind of bittersweet for me: a harbinger of spring and warmer weather but also the last hurrah for 92 St. Thomas employees, including faculty, staff and administrators who are participating in the retirement incentive plans and retiring May 31. I’ll miss dozens of these people, but none more than Tom Connery and Lynda McDonnell.

I met Connery a year or two after he joined the St. Thomas Journalism Department in 1982, the result of a search by Father James Whalen for his ultimate successor as department chair. Father Whalen, my old friend, had been particular, persistent and persnickety in finding “just the right fit.”

Just the right fit turned out to be a guy who could be an engaging teacher, a promising scholar and an inspiring leader – all without threatening the Padre, who relished his role as the public face and front man of journalism at St. Thomas.

Connery was working on a profile of Don Shelby for a Twin Cities magazine when we met. I was a Shelby colleague at WCCO-TV and a friend, the godfather to his girls. Connery’s questions were sharp and thoughtful. I recall thinking this guy would make a helluva reporter and, after I read his story, I knew he was a heckuva writer.

Tom Connery (left) in 2009 with then-student Patrick Donahue.

By 1989, as I was about to turn 50, television news had changed dramatically; I no longer saw a role for me. I called Connery, recalling how I much I had enjoyed teaching a reporting course at St. Thomas as an adjunct. After a little good luck and a lot of lobbying from Connery, Monsignor Terrence Murphy and Dean John Nemo offered me a limited-term contract.

It was Connery who led me to tenure. He sent me to teaching workshops. He urged me to find publishing outlets. He celebrated my successes in the classroom. And he modeled a love and regard for St. Thomas students, particularly those who showed promise as writers and reporters. He loved this place and it showed in everything he did.

As a dean, Connery was proud of student-faculty research. He loved the idea that energetic professors would take good students along for the ride, sharing the excitement of thoughtful work and new discoveries. I hope he continues to teach once in awhile, especially his beloved Journalism as Literature course.

Lynda McDonnell has a shorter St. Thomas tenure than Connery, but her enthusiasm and energy are a match for his. She has led the ThreeSixty program for more than a decade at St. Thomas, with a goal to find students of color who want to be writers and reporters, to nurture them and to help them into college and, eventually, into newsrooms.

Lynda McDonnell

McDonnell came to the program in 2002 from the St. Paul Pioneer Press newsroom, where she was the political editor supervising coverage of the Minnesota Legislature and Gov. Jesse Ventura. She was used to action and antics. She got used to fundraising and hand holding, especially of 16-year-old wannabe reporters interviewing a Minneapolis mayor for the first time.

I loved working with her: She saw potential in a shy and sensitive student at summer camp. She spotted the opportunity to create a new program with a public school. She established an online news magazine written by, and for, high school students. She could arrange a fundraising dinner. She could plan a Saturday writing session. She could firmly, but gently, admonish me when I botched an “ask” of former TV weather forecaster Paul Douglas.

“My Lord, Nim,” she said, “you just told him that he may have other causes and uses for his money. Let him make that determination.” She was right. I not only didn’t set the hook, I failed to present the bait.

Connery and McDonnell never failed to show their pride and passion for St. Thomas. Of course, they’re not alone among the retirees. There also are Ken Goodpaster, Carole Jacobs, Marla Friederichs, Linda Halverson, Pete Parilla, Tom Mega, Bill Kirchgessner … and a whole lot more.

At a recent retreat for the Division of Student Affairs, I attended an interesting session about Debora Spar’s book, Wonder Women: Sex, Power and the Quest for Perfection. This session piqued my interest because the topic of gender equality has been close to my heart since my undergraduate work at St. Thomas. During my time as an undergrad and in graduate school at the University of Minnesota, I took many courses on feminism and the portrayal of women in the media. But since I graduated from the U of M six years ago, I’ll admit that I haven’t given the topic as much thought.

In her book, Spar examines how women are still living in a man’s world, even 50 years after the Equal Pay Act. The book discusses how far women have come, and how much further we need to go to achieve true equality.

According to the National Center for Educational Statistics, within each racial/ethnic group, women earned the majority of degrees at all levels in 2009-10 and it’s projected that by 2013, 57 percent of all undergraduates will be women. While more women are going to college and getting degrees, there is still a wage gap. The American Association of University Women (AAUW) says the pay gap hasn’t budged in a decade. In 2012, as in 2002, among full-time workers, women were paid 77 percent of what men were paid. Women face a pay gap in almost every occupation, the pay gap grows with age and it exists whether or not a woman has children. The AAUW found that college-educated women earn 5 percent less the first year out of school than their male peers. Ten years later, even if they keep working on par with those men, the women earn 12 percent less.

After attending the session and doing some research of my own, I was left questioning how things have changed for female undergraduates in the 10 years since I earned my degree. The answer: not much has changed. Women still face unrealistic pressures to “have it all” and look beautiful while doing it. The feminist movement was meant to bring together women (and men) to work toward providing equal opportunities. Somehow, in the years since the movement began in the 1970s, this message has been twisted to mean that women need to try to do everything. We need to be beautiful and thin, have a successful career and be perfect mothers. In reality, something is always sacrificed when you try to have it all.

As a mother of two young children, I know a woman can have a job and be a mom, but life is a little more hectic. The feminist movement showed us that women can work after they have children, but that doesn’t mean that they have to. The feminist movement gave women choices. Somehow, today that choice has become more of a competition, with working mothers and stay-at-home moms against each other. But instead of competing about whose job is more important, we need to realize that each job is significant.

Clearly, there is more work to be done to achieve equality, but much of the change will not occur unless there is a shift in our society’s mentality. The quest for perfection is unrealistic and, quite frankly, unattainable. Ultimately, I think the message for today’s female students is that feminism gave us more choices and opportunities, and what we decide to do with those opportunities is up to us as individuals.

We need to feel empowered that we can choose what we want to do with our lives, and come together – as men and women – to create a better future for all of us.